


Caught in the Crosshairs of the Things We've Done

by pariahsdream



Category: Scarlet Spider (Comics)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Missing Scene, References to Illness, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 11:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pariahsdream/pseuds/pariahsdream
Summary: It always comes back to them, Kaine and Ben, even if it's not what he wants this time.Pre-series for Ben Reilly: Scarlet Spider.





	Caught in the Crosshairs of the Things We've Done

**Author's Note:**

> I have uh problems with how Kaine is being used in BRSS and this is basically me attempting to make sense of how Kaine could leave Aracely without even a reference to her. This is also my first time writing Kaine and it's unbeta'ed, so please be gentle.

“ _Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain  
Clings cruelly to us_.” John Keats, Endymion

For a little while there he forgot somehow. It shouldn’t have been possible. He was born in suffering, existed in it, was cast out because of it and told there was no hope for him. Someone else might’ve chosen to die then and there. But Kaine had been bred from Peter Parker and spite was coded into his very genetics. 

So he had stared down an existence of inescapable pain and a body that was as much his enemy as anyone that actually tried to kill him and Kaine fought back. It certainly would’ve been easier to let them do it. But innate stubbornness or maybe pride wouldn’t let these lesser men finish the job even his fa- even the Jackal couldn’t do. Kaine long ago decided that even though he didn’t ask to be created he wasn’t going to let anyone take away what little he had, would fight anyone that could threaten it. Not unless God Himself came down to stop him and even then Kaine would’ve had a few choice words for Him. 

He still did if he ever got the chance, especially as he hadn’t the first time he died.

It should’ve been a relief, to be released, to know that he wouldn’t have to be ashamed of his humiliation but it wasn’t. He’d been gone and then he’d been yanked back by the devil himself, his cruel father wanting to toy with him still (always). The time after that it hadn’t even registered, nor the others after that. Maybe he was already in hell and didn’t know it.

(No, that’s not right. Not with Aracely here... although she’s not _here_ and maybe that’s part of the problem.)

Here is Las Vegas, legendary pit of sin and vice. The Vegas skyline isn’t one he’s fond of. The Strip is all chaotic colors and noise, designed to overwhelm senses, keep people uncertain which direction is right, from realizing the passing of time, unable to really know how far down purgatory they’ve fallen. Kaine can bear it but he finds no joy in it either. He’s not going to, not in this. 

Ben’s trying to disappear. Trying to be a needle in a haystack but people like them always are apart. Kaine will find him and he will kill him, a simple answer to a fraught question he’s had all his life. 

A spasm of heat tears across the back of hand making him lose his grip on the building he’s clinging to. In a second he’s in freefall, careening while his nerves are all on fire, ripping through his body like they’re flayed apart and exposed to pure acid. 

He gets control enough over his left arm to grab at the building’s outer molding, tearing chunks of concrete and rebar out with his fingers like peeling a banana. His body still bounces off the unforgiving surface and Kaine cusses enough to know he’d’ve owned two swear jars full as he slows his fall. His arm is wrenched out of socket; unable to sustain his weight, Kaine drops like a stone the rest of the way to the ground. He lands in an open dumpster.

Well, it’s an apt metaphor for his life, anyway.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” he mutters to himself, rubbing a hand over his face with a mirthless chuckle. All of this pain isn’t new to him and yet it steals his breath away, leaves him winded and making mistakes he should know to avoid. All because he had the audacity to believe, for a little while, he was a person. Maybe.... Maybe even a person with something to live for.

That life is over now. Houston is in his rearview mirror, just like the life before that and the one before that. 

He could lie down and stare up at a black sky, the lights too bright to see anything worth looking at, but he won’t let himself. If nothing else, Kaine’s always been a doer. He’s come here to kill Ben and lying in a heap of garbage isn’t going to make that happen even if he wouldn’t mind slamming perfect Ben’s perfect head with the lid of this dumpster a few times.

Blaming Ben doesn't help him out of the dumpster either but it does let him wonder why it seems like the dead can't stay dead. More than that, he wishes he knew why he couldn't stay dead himself. But hell is made up of all the bad choices in your life or so he’s gathered from 2 am televangelists. He doubts that his creation had anything to do with anything as divine as a soul, but he does believe that this is probably recompense for everything he’s done. No one ever wonders what happens to the monster after it’s slain after all.

There's a stubborn part of him that asks, ‘what about Ben?’ 

Once, Kaine could've believed anything was possible when it was Ben. 

Ben had died a hero. That's how the story is supposed to go. Why not this time? Why did things get so twisted up? Why can’t Kaine escape the sinking feeling is that this is their fate; them forever locked in a battle until they’re both dead. 

He doesn't want it this time. Fuck, he's not sure he ever really did. But Ben had set this in motion... hadn’t he? He’d nearly killed everyone, killed _Aracely_ and Peter and Wally, Donald....so he had to pay for that. Kaine chose to return to a path he thought he could finally put to rest. Just like Ben. 

It's not malice or hate motivating him this time. Yet he can't deny he's swung back and forth between loving and hating Ben his whole life, short as it is, so maybe he really doesn't know the difference. 

No, that's not true. He loves Aracely. Loves her with a purity that he never thought he could possess, a selflessness that borders on annoying half the time and wonderful the rest. He thinks sometimes he understands a little bit of what Peter feels about Aunt May. And he understands why Peter keeps secrets from her. 

Just like he never let Aracely know he had come back from those parallel worlds he’d been dropped into after the Inheritors attacked the New Warriors. Because of him. He'd put them all in danger just by being there. He won't make the same mistake twice.

And he won’t let her watch him die. He loves her enough to spare her that. 

Climbing out of the dumpster with one arm is a barrel of laughs but it’s just a preview compared to popping his shoulder back into place. His whole left side throbs angrily at him and Kaine knows that he might as well call it a night. Even if he did catch up with Ben, he’s not in the best shape for a prolonged fight. 

He considers hailing a taxi but with the gunk all over his costume, barely concealed by the jacket he’s slung across it, he knows he’ll just get ignored. So he walks down the road, annoyed that the heat coming off the sideway is barely blunted by the fact it’s well into the wee hours of the night. Houston was hot but this was worse.

The motel he’s hiding in- _renting_ \- is a cheap place that makes him miss the Four Seasons just as much as it makes Kaine scoff at how domestic he’s gotten. He can remember living in squalid sewers, frozen abandoned buildings, places that would make this tacky little motel with its novelty card decks seem like a cozy little haven. All his self-flagellation doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss getting on call massages though, especially when his body feels like this. 

He strips out of his jacket and costume with as little jarring to his shoulder as he can manage, tossing it carelessly on the thin bed. There’s a small thump as his phone falls onto the floor. He should’ve gotten rid of it. He should’ve grabbed a new burner, just cut ties completely--

There’s a new message on it and Kaine’s masochistic enough tonight to listen to it. 

_"Kaine, it's Vance. This is the sixth message I've left you. We know you're back from wherever you went, the mountain registered- Whatever. Please, whatever happened to you, whatever is going on let us help you. That's why we're a team! You don't have to be alone. Aracely misses-”_

__

__

"Message erased. No new messages.”

_‘Feeling guilty?’_ a voice inside his head mocks him cruelly and he knows better than to look at anything reflective in that moment. There’s too many ghosts that would laugh and laugh at how much his self-worth is wrapped up in a young girl’s opinion of him. 

She's better off with the Warriors, far from his past, far from clones and the ghost of Miles Warren and all the ways he made Kaine into the monster he is.

“Been better if she never met me,” he growls bitterly at his reflection as he steps into the bathroom. The Other isn’t there this time. There’s no visual cue to the beast inside. It’s just bloodshot eyes and three days past any acceptable notion of scruff. 

It’s a lie and so are his words and he knows it. But he also knows that Aracely would’ve died if he hadn’t been there and he can’t stomach the thought of it, not like that. So many bodies, discarded and unmourned. How long had she been in there? How many times had she begged for someone to save her? As many times as he had?

Whatever else he’s done, whatever he’s got to account for, Kaine saved Aracely. The only thing worth a damn in his whole life and he’s not going to regret that, not for one second.

His body has a low-grade fever that he tries to cool down with the shower but it’s only a stop gas measure. He can pinpoint the symptoms of the cellular degeneration more quickly this time; he’s starving all the time thanks to his body trying to bulk up to preserve itself. He’s stronger too, not like he had been, but each day is a step closer to his old life. 

“At least there’s no visions this time,” he mutters, stepping out of the bathroom with a thin, scratchy towel wrapped around his hips. It’s a small mercy. He can go into it this time without his brain trying to rip itself apart from an overload of information. 

Right now the only thing on his mind he's willing to entertain is feeding his growling stomach. He's in luck that one of the benefits of being in Las Vegas is apparently the same as New York- nobody sleeps and you can order food at 2AM without anyone batting an eyelash. 

While he waits for the food to arrive, he flips on the tv, wanting the noise if not particularly interested in watching anything. (It had been horribly quiet the first few weeks after he’d been separated from Aracely. He’s still not used to it even if this is a poor substitute.)

“ _-it’s alive! It’s ALIVE!!”_

Kaine stops idly channel surfing, caught on the grainy black and white image of Dr. Frankenstein welcoming his creation to a bleak existence. 

_It had been just like any other night after a patrol, before the Warriors, before Kraven. Donald and Annabelle were over with Aracely and they had all decided to watch ancient horror movies for some reason Kaine hadn’t been privy to. As soon as she knew he was there, Aracely had pestered him into joining them. And because he was a sucker and he wanted the chili-lime spiced popcorn, Kaine had plopped down next to her to watch Boris Karloff in ‘Frankenstein’._

_He expected... well, something more visceral. It actually had very little of the monster really in it. And what you did see - well, there were some moments of watching the Monster being chained down and hidden away that made his stomach want to heave up all the popcorn he’d just ingested. It was worse when the Monster couldn’t even articulate its pain at the end, going up in flames with its own creator._

_“I don’t know why people call him Frankenstein all the time,” Aracely mused as she leaned forward, chin propped up on her knees. Donald and Annabelle had ended up falling asleep part way through. “He’s not the bad guy.”_

_“He’s the monster,” Kaine had said without much thought, digging an unpopped kernel from his gums._

_“Nu-uh, the doctor is!”_

_Kaine’s eyes flicked over to her but Aracely didn’t notice. It’s such an innocuous statement maybe she was just talking about the movie. “The Monster kills a little girl,” he found himself arguing. He wanted to point out how dangerous the Monster is, that he’s never safe to be around. No one should ever trust a Monster._

_“That wasn’t on purpose though, he didn’t know what he was doing,” Aracely wrinkled her nose, the cool tones of the black and white movie making her face a little too lifeless and drained for Kaine’s stomach._

_“Still killed someone. Someone innocent who didn’t deserve it and he can’t change that ever, no matter what he does, so he’s still a bad guy.”_

The knock on the door jerks him out of the reverie and Kaine switches the channel before collecting his food. 

It’s later, after he laid down in bed, that he remembers he’d promised to watch “Bride of Frankenstein” with Aracely. He hadn’t been enthusiastic because it seemed like the first movie had ended the story pretty thoroughly. But she liked Boris Karloff and maybe he was a little curious how the Monster learned how to live without his creator forever trying to control him. 

Kaine could remember how frightening that had been at first. He had no clue what to do with himself. Kaine had always been a driven person but when survival and hate aren’t an ever-present force to motivate you, what else is there?

There had been a part of him, small, one he denied over and over, that knew; knew what kind of man he should be. Ben had done it. He had a life, with friends and lovers all his own without Peter's shadow over him even. He had become more than what Warren had tried to turn him into.... at least for a little while.

Kaine twists up in the sheets, trying to get the image of Ben in that slick suit and that fucking Jackal mask out of his mind. How could Ben turn his back on everything he’d been? Ben was better than that. He had been the one to get away from Warren and live. He hadn’t crawled back to him begging like Kaine had. 

Ben never begged. Warren had chased after him, had sought to restore Ben, not like what he’d done to Kaine. God, what kind of sick fuck up was he that he felt.... jealous. He knew better. He knew that Ben was always going to be the favorite because Ben had been perfect. Perfectly heroic and perfectly suited to fight a monster like Kaine.

But god, he didn’t want to do this all over again. 

‘ _No one said you had to,’_ a voice points out to him, this time without the cruel mockery. Kaine turns over in the groaning bed, staring at the peeling paint on the wall. He could leave. He could go back to Aracely and let Ben do whatever the hell he wanted. Let him skulk around like some third-rate villain with delusions of grandeur. He could go back to people that might actually want him around, like the Warriors, or maybe even convince Aracely to give Mexico another chance.

The tiny seed of hope that wants to root in his chest manages to live for three seconds before his left arm spasms and he can feel where his skin is boiling up. It rockets him up off the bed as he tries to keep from tearing off his skin to seek relief. It never worked anyway. 

He’s still dying. No matter what path he took, that was the end result. Kaine can’t escape it this time. There’s no supernatural force that will step in and change his fate. Life is brutal, hard and uncaring. And whatever he does to try and stop bad things from happening won't matter anyway, people will still be selfish and lie and do whatever they can to justify the evils they do to each other. 

Taking a breath as the pain eases off, Kaine reaches for the phone and picks it up. There’s a stupid picture waiting on the screen of Aracely practically hanging off his shoulders as she positions the camera. They’re both half in their uniforms which is stupid in a different way considering you can see their bare faces. He doesn’t know how long he stares at it before he crushes the phone in his hand, ignoring where the metal pierces his skin.

No matter what happened, they can't go back, him or Ben. It had felt nice being someone he wasn't for awhile. Maybe Ben felt the same way, who knows. That’s over with for both of them now. Kaine will kill Ben because he’s the monster, one who will burn from the inside out, and that's how it is. Because monsters don’t get happy endings.

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen from "When the Truth Hunts You Down" lyrics.


End file.
